Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(99)

Being denied would destroy me before I had a chance to return to my former glory.

Chloe comes back into the room clutching a bubblegum pink notebook in her hand.

“What’s that?” I point.

“I’m about to share a little magic with you.”

That’s all she has done up until this point. It’s as if she sprinkles pixie dust wherever she goes, turning my life into something worth getting out of bed for. And most of all, turning me into someone that feels worthy of loving not only someone else, but also myself.

Chloe motions for me to sit in my chair. I follow her lead out of curiosity, and she pulls up another seat next to me.

She opens her journal to a blank page. “I want us to make a wish.”

“This is your wish journal?”

She bites her lip and nods.

“You’re sharing your wish journal with me?” My voice sounds as incredulous as I feel. “Why?”

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you.’” She bumps her shoulder into mine.

“I’m surprised.”

“It’s no big deal. Really.” She rolls her eyes.

I look over at her with a raised brow.

“Okay, it’s a slightly big deal.” She pinches her fingers together, leaving a centimeter gap.

“You’re going to let me steal a wish?”

“Stealing means you’re taking without asking. In reality, I’m giving away one for free.”

“Why?”

Chloe loves this journal, and I want to push her to realize why this is a big deal to her. To realize she cares more than basic infatuation or lust or friendship. I’m desperate for her to realize she loves me. Her actions scream it, yet the words never make it past her lips. I never thought I would crave this kind of affection from someone who does not give it willingly. But damn if it hasn’t made Chloe all that more interesting, making me work for it.

Chloe runs a finger across the yellowed page. “I care a lot about you.”

Okay…that’s something at least.

She continues. “And you deserve to have your biggest wish granted.” She grabs her pen and writes something across the page.

I wish that the Formula Corp lets Santiago Alatorre race again.

“Now it’s settled. Obviously you’re going to drive with Bandini next year. This journal doesn’t fool around. I can promise you that.”

“Can I write something too?” I blurt out.

Her lips form an O. She pauses before nodding and handing me the pen. I move to write on the page, but her hand covers mine.

“Wait.” She flips the page to a blank one.

“Why did you do that?”

“New page, new wish. I don’t make the rules.”

I laugh to myself as I write down my wish. The one I’ve been thinking about for quite a while now.

I wish that Chloe Carter falls in love with someone worthy of her eighties-loving heart. That she finds that soul-crushing, heart-mending, passion-fueled love. A love that leaves her desperate for more because nothing that amazing should ever be done in moderation. The same love I found with her.

I drop the pen, and it rolls into the middle of the notebook.

Chloe looks down at the page, remaining silent.

“When you’re quiet, it’s never a good thing.” I nudge her shoulder.

“That’s your wish?”

“I wrote it, didn’t I?”

She pinches my side, right in the spot that makes me wince. “Asshole.”

“Aw, from you, I’ll take it as a term of endearment.”

She shakes her head. “You made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes slide from the journal to my face. The color of her irises looks more vibrant than ever, the blue flecks shifting from sapphire to aqua.

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her response.

“You can’t wish for something I already have.”

I never thought one sentence could carry this much meaning. It’s like Chloe set off a serotonin bomb in my brain.

She smiles wider at whatever look I have on my face. “I love you. I’m so in love with you. The kind of love that does leave me desperate in a way that makes me think I’m going crazy.”

I stand and pull her into me, landing a soft kiss against her lips. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Santiago Alatorre.”

“I’ll never get used to you saying it.”

Her smile drops a fraction. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or happy.”

“Stick with happy. Always happy.”

“I am, but I also can’t help being afraid,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“Because there are two kinds of loves out there.”

“Which are?”

“The love that flourishes and the love that kills.”

Something inside me withers away at her words, forcing reality to crash back down around me. It erases the elation I felt from Chloe’s admission of her love.

I desperately want to have the first kind of love with Chloe, but I can’t help worrying about the latter. Not because I would intentionally hurt her. There is only one thing threatening whatever we have built with each other. And secrets have a way of destroying the loveliest things, and I wonder if mine is the most deadly of all.